Obliteration
by pariloo
Summary: Were you told as a child how cruel the whole world can be? And what about those necessities? Like how to cope with tragedy and pain. Did anybody ever show you how? 19-year-old Kaneki Ken was never taught of such.
1. Subsisting

Kaneki didn't think of himself as one of those ghouls who thought what they did was right because it was necessary for their survival . 'Nor was he the type of person that thought they were somehow an advanced species, so killing the living didn't count. It does count. _Ghouls _eat people. _He_ eats people. And all Kaneki can say is that he would have done _anything_ to have stopped becoming this way.

The chalk-haired boy can feel something changing inside of him, like a drop of a pen's ink filtering throughout his heart and poisoning the vermilion with a black tint; he knows he's going insane. And Hide knows, too. Kaneki is well aware that the blonde pretends not to notice it.

Kaneki knew he couldn't hide the results of his torture. He was able to hold onto his sanity with bony digits for months, but now the necessity had slipped through his grasp like water.

Not only has Hide realized it, but his other friends have as well. Touka barks at him when he balls his sweaty hands into fists, yelling how it's irritating when he constantly taps his fingers on a flat surface. Callouses caress the tips of his fingers from the constant rapping. She even goes so far as digging her nails into the back of his hands to get him to stop. Kaneki can tell she's worried to the marrow for him; terrified of how he's managing to make do with his troubles. Sometimes Kaneki even arrives at Hide's apartment with his hands a dark shade of red, swollen from biting them raw. Hinami often catches him washing his hands over and over, minute after minute in a feeble attempt to wash the carmine color off. It usually ends up with the skin cracking and becoming very painful to air or touch.

The ghoul even has a habit of snapping his knuckles. It emitted after the 'incident' and no one can understand why he does that.

Even Kaneki's taste in music has changed. He listens to "shouting music" as Nishiki describes. Anything he can really blast loud through his earphones. The more ear-splitting the better. It keeps him from hearing things from reality, the loud vibrations convulsing loose any phantasmagoria feelings. And for a moment, he manages to forget.

Hide's the only one who thinks of his actions as the road to recovery; subsisting. The blonde gives Kaneki sandpaper sheets to scratch at instead of his head, balls of yarn to tug at instead of the thin strands of white hair. He also stops everyday by Anteiku to say hello to Hinami, Touka, and the rest of the gang, fill them in on how Kaneki's doing. Then he'd buy two black coffees, taking them back to his apartment with him to give to the certifiable teen. Kaneki usually responds with a fast hug and lots of thank you's.

One time Hide came home to find blood all over the floor with Kaneki in the middle of the puddle, screaming and pulling at his hair. The half-ghoul had taken out his kagune and gave a feeble attempt at what looked like suicide; whatever had bled the crimson onto the kitchen tiles had healed rather quick due to his regenerative powers. Hide had to fight the urge to cover his ears at his friends terrified screaming, fall to his knees and crawl his way to the hyperventilating ghoul. He'd gathered Kaneki into his arms and whispered calmly into his ear until the trembling boy stopped his shrieking and tremors.

But some days were good. Kaneki was his usual self, managing to force a small smile onto his countenance. Those were the days Hide, _everyone_ cherished most.

Then some days were terrible. That's just how it was.

The world is cruel.

* * *

Hide opens the door with a creak, two hot beverages in a cup holder. Steam emitted and curled from the holes in each coffee lid, the bitter scent filtering throughout the apartment and giving it a calm setting. He makes his way to the kitchen, flicking on the lightswitch with an index finger. He calls out to the form he could sense was there, "Hey man, brought you a little something!"

When there's no reply, Hide sets the foam coffee tray onto a granite counter top, picking up one of the grande paper cups filled with the precious liquid. Making way down a carpeted hall, one of the last doors is open, and from the looks of it, the room is pitch black. Pursing his lips, he steps one foot into the threshold of the doorway and flicks on that light, too. A figure is sitting on the bed, back turned, front facing the corner of the wall. Hide makes his way to the edge of the bed, sitting down on it as well and holding out the cup. He was aware that the half-ghoul couldn't see the offering, but could surely smell it. "Coffee, Kaneki."

It's dead quiet as Kaneki's head slowly lolls back to gaze at the teen. His expression looked drained, bags drooping from a hard day of flashbacks and stress. That one eye radiated the signature red glare against black, crimson spidery threads crawling from the iris and filling up some of the dark sclera. The pupil is trembling and flits down at the coffee. Facing forward and turning his body towards his friend, Kaneki reaches shakily towards the usual gift. Hide can make out the scars on his hands from the constant washing. Cold fingers wrapped around the cup, and at a slow pace, raises the lid to chapped lips. Kaneki began to swallow the steamy contents. He was done within seconds and the empty drinking vessel drops from his grasp and onto the floor.

Kaneki then stroked a finger down the side of Hide's cheek; when he didn't feel like talking, this was the usual 'thank you.' Hide, already accustomed to his friend's awkward advances, ruffles the ghoul's white locks. "No problem Kaneki. Hey, you wanna read something? I got you a new novel a few days ago. Haven't gotten the chance to peruse it with you yet. But since we're here.." Hide reaches back, grabbing a book from a desk at the foot of the mattress. He sets it on his lap and opens it. Almost immediately, Kaneki crawls next to Hide, leaning against the human and peering over at the thin pages. The artificial half-ghoul's chin rested on his confidant's shoulder, sunken eyes reading over the text as Hide read aloud. With each page turn, the book emitted a smell; that scent that new books always had about them when first bought. It soothed the creature. He was about to fall asleep against his buddy before the golden-haired male slapped the book shut.

"It's getting close to dinner, isn't it? Kaneki, are you hungry?" Without waiting for a reply, Hide reaches into his hoodie pocket, pulling out a small rectangular object. It was covered in brown paper, sealed shut with a bit of packaging tape.

The ghoul didn't respond, he only remained silent, extremely silent.

Hide figured it would stay like that.

This was one of Kaneki's days when he didn't talk. He kept himself caged in his brain, drowning in whatever thoughts he hosted.

There's a sudden snap and Hide can only guess that Kaneki was cracking his knuckles again. It sent chills up his spine, made him want to grasp his hands into his own and explain why it wasn't healthy. Why it caused all his friends at Anteiku so much pain to hear it.

And that's when the milky-maned stripling suddenly reaches into Hide's pocket and pulls out his earphones.

_He wanted to listen to music?_

Hide only gives a reassuring smile, a smile that hid pain behind it. He longed for his friend back. "You want to listen to music?"

Kaneki shakes his head.

This only makes Hide confused. He ponders a moment before picking up the settled book in his lap. "..You wanna read some more?"

Silence.

That is until the ghoul's voice, raw and tired, barely audible makes its way past twisted vocal chords.

"I..I want to l-listen...to music with.. you... Hide," came the helpless whisper, almost begging. His shoulders are trembling while the rest of his body is still. It's obvious Kaneki was trying to hold whatever he was thinking inside. And it hurt Hide, sent a wrenching feeling in his gut.

_Could Kaneki not trust him? _

Yet Hide didn't push for the ghoul to tell what was wrong. What he went through with Jason. He never did. Because the memories caused Kaneki pain.

Hide has to keep himself from frowning. He nods casually, standing up to search for his phone that held all that jarring music. Turning to look at his corrupt friend momentarily, a fake grin is plastered onto his countenance. It hurts to see his best friend like this.

"Whatever you want, man."

* * *

**YOOOOO, I'll try to post another chapter soon. Sorry they're so short. School isn't giving me enough time to type as much as I'd like.**

**Please bear with this for now! I'm aware there may be typos, so please just pretend they aren't there! Haha.**

**This was just an overview to give you an idea of what's happening with Kaneki right now. I'll make the next chapter more about what Kaneki's thinking.**

**Thank you very much for reading!**


	2. Cognizance

Kaneki is so hungry.

At first the gnawing feeling didn't hit him once he started on the short walk through Tokyo.

And then it hit him like a train.

His pulse augmented at his current contemporaneous environment, causing his mouth to overfill with saliva. His breathing is snapping, ragged as if he'd just ran a mile. It takes Kaneki longer than it should've to realize he's stopped in his footpath, some people even shooting looks in his direction.

He gives a small incline of his head downwards, the hood of his jacket shadowing the upper portion of his face; this hid the current expression on his countenance that was oozing for flesh. Drool slips down the length of his jawline, and his breathing becomes uncontrollable. A young woman looks as if she's about to ask if he's alright, but was pulled away by another scolding lady. Kaneki can hear her speaking as they leave.

"Don't mess with that boy. Something's not right with him."

She was right. Nothing was right with Kaneki. Not anymore.

Eyes hid behind a fringe of chalky hair, he moves again, not bothering to pick up his pace despite the clawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. The igneous and all-consuming hunger pang had increased to an incited conflagration in his gullet, causing a groaning noise to slip past his chapped lips.

His fingers are twitching and one shoots straight up to his mouth as he continues through the parting crowd. The artificial half-ghoul's jaws open and clamp down on the digit, pearly teeth biting through flesh. It acted as a mouth-guard, keeping himself from engulfing everything in sight.

An immeasurable amount of aromas file through his sharpening nostrils, a stinging beginning to submerge the bones of his face connecting with the sensitive nasal cavity. There's colorful shapes flashing in and out of his vision, and now his breathing has turned into hyperventilating.

Some people are staring as they walk by, being sure to keep their distance from the insanity-on-wheels pushing his way through the assemblage of men and women. And Kaneki couldn't blame them.

Shoving past the clumps of people, the scent waving off of their skin catches his attention. More saliva drains from his mouth. And now he's running.

Finding his way past the abundant crowds, the milky-haired ghoul discovers a dark alleyway. He throws himself into the shaded habitat of buildings, knees buckling under his own weight. Allowing himself to fall to his knees, a spasm of tremors take this as a chance to rack his thin frame.

Kaneki rips at his hair, letting out a raw scream that he's heard too many times.

"HELP ME. I CAN'T CONTROL IT.. I CAN'T.." He hiccups and begins sobbing, inhaling sharply. It sounds almost as if he's choking, malnutrition grating its grotesque claws down the pit of his stomach, the much-needed necessity of tissue from the human race taking it's toll on him; a result of his weakening resistance.

Then there's footsteps.

Any last dabs of his sanity quickly flushes under the need for flesh.

"Are you alright?" The concerned voice of a very young woman is heard.

Kaneki's face stretches in a large grin, and he stands to his feet, back still turned to his pursuer. The hood blows back from his face, the one ill-fated eye glowing its key signature vermilion in the depths of the trembling pupil, standing out against the jet black sclera.

He turns and the woman has no time to decide that she's made a terrible mistake that's ruined her whole future.

The half-ghoul's predatory organ branches out with crackling noises from the back of his waist, red as blood; the Rinkaku was flexible like the flow of water, yet firm and sturdy. Once released, his physique naturally strengthens, mobility heightening greatly. Livid vigor pulsates in vermeil rivulets down the kagune, beating out and rescinding repeatedly. Kaneki is well aware of himself slipping towards hedonism, but the hunger was too great. He's lost all control.

His white hair billows against the puffs of air coming from the swiveling tentacles behind him.

The four scaled tentacles, slowly at first, rise high in the air. Kaneki's head lolls to the side almost lazily as he snaps his knuckles, just as Jason did back then.

"Good evennnnnn-"

"-NING!" His vexed voice is loud enough to rupture eardrums as all four appendages slither in time with each other, the carmine structure yielding a superior power as they, all at once, strike through the woman's front with a sickening sucking sound.

Her eyes are stretched wide in complete shock as she falls to the gravel, and soon after the girl begins choking on her own foaming blood. Kaneki strikes her again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And _again. And again. And again. And again. AND AGAIN. AND AGAIN-_

And again..

Until the middle-half of her body is limp flesh, hanging by the curves of pasty ribs slavering ichor from the broken skin. He pounces forward at her corpse, leaning in and tearing at her awaiting material, taking in huge mouthfuls of the bloody tissue in a messy manner.

"MORE, MORE!" His distorted voice echoes in the darkness as he cracks open her heart cavity, digging into it like it was a banquet. Kaneki eats at her hungrily, engulfing anything in his way.

Then as fast as it started, it's over.

Retracting his kagune, it shimmers into thin air behind him. He takes in deep breathes of oxygen to feed his screaming lungs and soon Kaneki regains 'consciousness.' His olive eyes fall on the corpse in front of him. Regret and guilt wash over him once he realizes his doings, sinister thoughts wrapping themselves into the crook of his arm like a child and their mother in a store. Displeasure and intense dislike of himself is written into his very psyche.

"No.. I-I didn't... That wasn't me.."

Raising his hands, he finds that they are dripping with thick blood. The warm aluminum taste is coating his mouth and throat as well. It makes him feel sick. Nauseated. Makes him want to die.

He backs away from the half-eaten body, breathing once again heavily. He feels lightheaded and wraps his arms around his trembling body in a feeble attempt to calm himself.

_I killed someone.. I ate them.. _

The ghoul begins to cry loudly, self-hate engulfing his form.

_What if that was Hide, you idiot?.._

At the sudden thought of his friend, Kaneki pauses and his crying quiets into a variety of struggled hiccups.

The feeling of longing to be in his friend's arms dunks itself over him, and it's taking all he has to not get swept away by its tide. He wants Hide here, he wants to sob into the blonde's shoulder as the male whispers comforting things to him. Smell Hide's comforting scent, fall asleep against his chest, be in his friend's gasp.

He can't even tell Hide how he's feeling for God's sake! He can't even explain how much he's hurting!

_You're so pathetic. _

"Shut up," Kaneki weeps some more, voice cracking as he argues aloud with the voice is his mind.

_What if that was Hide?_

"Shut. Up.."

_The world breaks everyone, and afterwards, some become strong in the broken places. Except you, Kaneki Ken. You will never be strong.  
_

"SHUT UP!" Kaneki screams words filled with so much hate, slamming a balled fist against the blank asphalt. Tears stroll down his face at an abnormal rate, coating his cheeks in trails of the salty fluid.

"Hide.. Hideeeee," the ghoul whimpers helplessly, struggling for breathe as he calls the boy's name as if he'd appear right there.

He's in so much pain. And Hide.. Hide was the only one who could take it away. But Kaneki knew Hide couldn't help him if he didn't tell him what happened with Yamori.. No.. The memories... They... They were tearing him apart! Eating him alive!

"Damn it.." Kaneki bawls, his voice fading to grief-filled snivels. It hurt, it hurt all so much. Kaneki wanted it to stop.

And that's when he realized.

He was in love with Hide. His best friend.

He fell in love with his courage, his sincerity, and his flaming self-respect. And it's these things Kaneki would believe in even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that Hide wasn't all he should be.. Kaneki loved Hide, his best friend, and that's the beginning and end of everything.

* * *

**Heeeeellooooo. Managed to have some time, so I wrote this. **

**It's not the best and there's bound to be some typos, so please ignore them.**

**Thanks, as always, for taking some time to read this. It means a lot!~ **


	3. Neglected

Hide's heart pounded, slamming against the walls of his chest with such intensity that he were sure it would break a rib. He tried to ignore it, concentrate only on putting one foot in front of the other.

But each time his sneakers scraped the pavement, the blonde was sure it was the sound of a pursuer. He threw a glance over his shoulder, hands tucked in his hoodie pockets. His fingers felt the geometrical object that was wrapped in smooth paper and taped closed, merely to prevent the meat from spoiling. He'd just stopped at Anteiku to grab some 'food' for Kaneki before narrowly deciding to take a short-cut home. And quickly regretted it.

Breathe skittering, he fought to keep calm. The shadows seemed to dance on the brick walls of the alleyway, forming creatures Hide dared not look in the face.  
Every cell vibrated beneath his skin as he pulled his eyes in front of him. Everything sounded wrong.

The wail of a siren far off, the pebbles beneath his feet getting thrown together, the terrifying sound of dragging boots grating into the pavement right behind him.  
He felt like running to get out of this alley, out of the dark.

Hide knew someone was following him.

A tear-track of sweat slid behind his ear, though he was almost positive that it was the caress of death.  
The drummer in his chest pounded out a melody in his ear, more random and crazy than the normal song.  
He demanded that it slow, but it didn't. Hide couldn't help it. He was terrified.

"Peek-a-Boo!"

A voice suddenly appears.

And then that's when he was flung back against the dark corridor, full force. A weird feeling settled in his gut before it lolled around his entrails and fixated itself into his abdomen. Then there's a large abundant of pain. The sudden sound of squelching notions that something's been impaled through tightened flesh. It was none other than a ghoul. It had to be. And whatever the attacker was holding him against the wall with was stuck in his stomach to keep him pinned against the bricked cement.

His feet kick thin air and at that moment the blonde realizes he can't touch the ground. Ragged breathes tear anxiously at his lungs from the intensity of the sudden blow. "Agh.."

A metallic taste rose up his throat and out came an immeasurable amount of blood. A ruby river. Meanwhile, crimson liquid pulsated out of a gaping hole in his abdomen. In a matter of seconds, Hide realizes that it's the ghoul's kagune keeping him in place.

And the red kept coming, soaking into his hoodie. His eyes shoot up to be met with red pupils and blackened sclera; it was a male. He had slicked back brown hair. Hide has never seen him before.

"Gck!" Hide's body responds by getting rid of extra blood through the route of his esophagus.

The stranger retracted his kagune, the carnivorous organ flashing in the evening sunset, sharp and needle-like. Hide falls before taking a painful kick to the head that sends him rolling quite a distance. He stops at a patch of cobblestone pavement, twitching as he fought to open his eyes. A burning settles on his cheek, scratched up from scraping against the cement.

_K-Kaneki.._ _Where..._

The ghoul only smirks over at Hide's body, sliding his tongue over muted lips with predatory allure. "You look nice. Whatever is in your pocket attracted me here. But it's not that I'm interested in.."

The stranger waltzes over, heels of his shoes clicking against the grey pavement. A shoe kicks Hide in the ribs. Not very hard. More like a nudge. Through slitted eyes, the tow-haired boy can make out red boots that shade to black on the toes. A distant part of Hide thinks the color is called oxblood.

And then the ghoul seizes a handful of Hide's hair, hoisting him off the ground. He grunts. It feels almost as if he's being scalped by the force of gravity, every ounce of his weight contributing to his agony.

"The scent you're giving off is.. palatable.."

The blonde's only response is a choked gurgle. It hurts. And then the man tilts his head back, jaws unhinging widely, abnormally. The blonde wants to slam his eyes shut, but doesn't.

Yellow teeth part and sink into the soft flesh of Hide's collarbone.

At first there was no pain at all. His body had gone into shock right away. Sooner than wanted, a dull throbbing begins at the wound site, just as the ghoul pulls away from the enormous chunk of tissue pumping blood out of the maim.

Hide doesn't react. His flight instincts aren't kicking in.

And then it's excruciating. The feeling is unbearable. The world seems to be in hyper drive as adrenaline pulsates through his veins with loud booms, every sound magnified to a countless number. He couldn't breathe, vision clouding.

There are colored shapes flashing above the boy's face as the attacker stares at him with cold-blooded eyes, not a flinch of guilt flushing in them. Hide swears he could almost see the twisted pleasure radiating off of the ghoul's skin.

The pain is making him gasp and heave for the oxygen that his lungs could not seem to catch. It seems that time had slowed down to a snails pace.

That's when everything goes black and silent.

* * *

Hide wakes up.  
But wake up isn't quite right. That implies sleeping. A bed. A pillow.  
He comes to.

Instead of a pillow, his right cheek is pressed against something hard, rough, and gritty. A damp ongoing slab on concrete. Was he inside a house somewhere? No, concrete isn't inside of a home. There's a wet prickling feeling dancing on his exposed skin. He's outside.

It's drizzling. And dark.

The light-haired stripling's mouth catches a taste similar to old pennies. Blood. With his eyes still closed, he gently touches the back of his teeth with a swollen tongue. One of them feels loose; the inside of his mouth was shredded and sore. His head aches. It feels as if explosions had been set off in his mind, supernovae pain echoing off the boundaries of pale skull. There's also a faint buzzing in one ear.

His clavicle burns. The pain is sharp and red. Hurts like hell.

Consciousness was slow in returning to him, but when it did, the repercussion was combustible.

_"HIDE!"_

A voice called his name. No. Was it even his name?.. He can't remember. It was muffled. Sorta like the stranger were talking into a feathery pillow. Were they talking to him? No, not talking. The person was screaming. Male. The voice sounded familiar, but distant.

_"I can't stop the bleeding,"_ Another voice chimes in. Female. It sounds close of association, too, but extrasolar all the same.

Disoriented for a moment by the combined strain of a serious injury-induced migraine and the darkness that surrounded Hide, it took him a minute to make out the outline of two figures kneeling over him. With a great deal of strength, he manages to open his eyes to slits.

The pounding in the flaxen-maned boy's head quelled just enough to restore his vision back to normal for a second. He saw the full moon above him flanked by a scintillating arsenal of stars. But even keeping his eyelids open sapped to much energy from him. Letting his eyes fall shut again, the male grants himself permission to slip into the comforting arms of darkness once again.

* * *

Hide slowly lifted his heavy eyelids and the suddenly sharp smell of anti-bacterial cleaner filled his nose, tingling the weary sinus. His mouth was dry, head aching; the brightness of the room automatically assaulted the boy's eyes.

And then the pain hits him like a full-forced jackhammer.

It feels like he's unable to move. Not even his tongue. It was either he had no tongue or it was in a plaster cast. Or neither.

He was laying down, in a bed it seemed, and the space was pellucid. Light from a window reflected off the sterile white walls, causing the teen to squint. He felt like he'd slept for years, but was somehow still tired.

The slow beeping of a machine reaches his ringing ears after a few moments. Gathering a large abundance of strength, he manages to slowly turn his head towards the source of the noise, the muscles in his neck stiff and sore.

It was a machine? Where was he exactly? Tilting his chin down to look at his hand, he finds a bandage over an IV in the pastel limb. Hide's vision is blurring in and out, and it's taking a robust amount of vivacity to keep himself from falling back asleep. Then there's the sound of footsteps. The door opens and a short woman walks in.

She's wearing a pure white scrub. Why was everything white here? Did they want to blind him?

There's a small smile on her face, nice and sweet. Her voice is soft and unadulterated, making Hide's ability to stay awake falter terribly.

"I see you're awake?" She walks over and grabs his arm, checking the IV and making sure the fluid is still running correctly.

Hide remains tight-lipped.

The nurse grabs a compact remote from a shelf, clicking one of the buttons with her small thumb. Automatically, the bed he's been laying in repositions itself so he's sitting up somewhat.

Setting the clicker down, the physician's assistant flashes a white grin at him. He twitches. "Your friends visited today. There was around 4 of them. Didn't quite catch their names though. Sorry about that. I really don't..-"

She stops talking.

Actually, she hadn't. Hide had just lost his grasp on consciousness again.

* * *

It feels like he's floating at the bottom of a pond. It's warm. Nice.

Hide doesn't want to leave.

Voices can just barely be heard; it was as if they were obstructed in some way, muted.

But, against his will, he begins to near the surface automatically. Golden bubbles materialize around him as he breaks the water's exterior.

Bright light.

Hide can't help but think of how he's tired of lights.

There's the same beeping noise echoing in his brain and for a moment it sounds like a hallucination. But then his mind clears up and it sounds close.

He twitches, and eyes open, half-lidded.

Vision obscuring in and out, the organs can make out the delineation of.. a person? No... Three.

Two females, one shorter than the other. A kid maybe? And a white-haired male.

They all are looking out the window on the other side of the room.

"Hng.."

A small groan escapes Hide's lips at the attempt to keep them open. Everything was throbbing.

And then the light-haired guy manages to pick up the light sigh, head snapping his way.

Immediately, the boy's face lights up, and it looks like there's tears in his eyes as he scrambles over to the bed side. He takes Hide's wrist in his palm, trembling.

"H-Hide! Thank God!"

The two girl's heads swivel in his direction and they too run over, grins of relief written on their countenances. It almost makes Hide flinch.

"Onii-chan!" The brown-haired youngster cries, throwing her arms onto his legs and shaking them with soft hands.

"Calm down, Hinami. Don't startle him." There comes the voice of the lavender-haired girl. It's calm and smooth, but how she's gripping the bedside's railing so tight that her knuckles are white proves otherwise. There's consolation in her gaze.

Hide gives a small convulse, blinking slowly.

Then his voice, raw and unrecognizable even to himself, squeezes its way past a jaded larynx.

"..Who are you?"

* * *

**OH NOOOO, HIDE LOST HIS MEMORY.**

**Yup, that's right.**

**I wanted to take a different turn with this.**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**I had to retype this twice because my dumb computer didn't save it. ;A; **

**Again, THERE MAY BE TYPOS! Please ignore them! **

**Thank you for your support, favorites, follows, and not to mention reviews! It brightens my day!**

**Thanks for reading!~**


	4. Ink-Dyed Memories

What Kaneki saw in his closed eyes was the world that he'd lost.  
It cannot be found, he still can't have it.

He feels transparent around Hide. His best friend.

And the transparent person longs to be told beautiful lies. Fictitious affirmation.

_**"I remember you,**_**_ Kaneki_.****"**

The words he longed to hear.

* * *

The keen, hostile rush of brittle winter gust swept throughout Tokyo, plucking acutely at all things insubstantial and frail; just like him. The wind only succeeds in sipping the already fallen autumn leaves, sending the fragile objects tumbling along the yellow grass.

_Would he be touched by the wind and carried away?_

The inky-black hood of his coat breezes rearwards from his head to land on his back, revealing a pastel face hollowed out by a look of severe despondency and dejection. Restive pasty hair kinks slightly at the ends and fans away from his physiognomy in the December wind.

White wisps curl from the male's mouth at an abnormal rate from his habitually tremulous breathing; he shivers against the nibbling gust. The boy repositions the muffler protectively over already-chapped lips, early morning frost nipping at his cheeks.

This results in the flesh flushing ever-so-slightly an infinitesimal tinge of salmon. The color on his pale profile was barely visible, even despite begin cloaked upon the very mute and pallid skin that was far from healthy.

_The secret is blooming in slow motion._

There were things Kaneki could cope with. He could manage the vacuity that ingested his being, waited in the pit of his stomach. He could manage the way the torment picked and manducated him, vacating his psyche with distorted mirages from the past.

He managed to cope with his own memory loss and sleep confiscation. He could cope with the night terrors that afflicted him to slumber, because he only ached when he remembered. The boy could even bear with the plastic hallucinations that plagued his mind, straying in the damp, underdog corners of his brain.

Not this. He wasn't prepared for this.

Hide had been attacked while he was busy having a panic attack at home. It was his fault. He could've prevented it if he'd stuck with his friend.

Now Hide had been diagnosed with amnesia.

Kaneki remembered the abraded words slipping out the blonde's mouth, eyes sparking with confusion.

_**"..Who are you?"** _

The chalky-haired stripling had paused, smile fading from his lips like a dying rose turning to ashes. The words he were about to say were lost.

_Loneliness, the sound of eardrums weeping; Was he there, in a loop?_

With a rush of adrenaline, Kaneki tears from the thoughts and inhales unsteadily, the sudden frigid air burning his lungs; he'd been holding his breath without realizing it. Maybe even trying to kill himself with magic.

_A little bit of beauteous ambiguity, until it touches you._

The memories were going round and round, filling up with black and white.

Kaneki recalls the reminiscence of being forced to leave from the room once the confused patient had started screaming, yelling at them to leave.

**_"I DON'T KNOW YOU__ PEOPLE."_**

Hide's words echo in his mind, lingering. Kaneki's muscles tighten, heart clenching.

And it hurts, the awful commemorations his cerebrum was conjuring.

_A time slip phenomenon._

What has become transparent was gone, what was seen in his closed eyes had left; the scent of sweet dreams had vanished in the winter wind.

* * *

**Sorry it's so short. I just sorta wanted to type up something nice and quick. **

**The next chapter is when Hide gets discharged from the hospital and Kaneki has to work on getting him to remember, gaining his trust, and building up the friendship again. **

**Phew. ;3; **

**Like always, please ignore any spelling errors. **

**Thanks for your support!~ **


	5. Come Back

The temperature dropped and the storm screamed into full-throated being. Bright stars were lost behind a mountain of thunderheads, whipping rain and freezing wind rifling Kaneki's coat. Wires of lightning bleached his skin bone-white and made the dark that followed seem darker still.

The male shrugged up his coat and walked bent against the gale. Swollen water crowding the sidewalk sucked at his shoes, navigating as much by memory as by sight. Rain drummed on every building as he quickened his pace to a run seemingly unnoticed throughout the flooding streets. He sprinted past scattered roof tiles torn away by the wind, past a group of people gathering under an umbrella, past a tipped cardboard box disgorging itself into the road.

It was only when he slowed to a fast-walk when the hospital managed to come into sight despite the ash-colored clouds blocking most of it from view, an endless blanket of smoke smothering the earth.

Making his way to the double doors, Kaneki shoves them open with both hands. Stepping into the brightly-lit entrance of the hospital, the desk clerk immediately figures that someone has arrived; the sound of water dripping onto the clean tiles proves it.

Today was the day Hide was discharged from the hospital. And Kaneki had to go home with him. To Hide, the chalky-haired teen was a stranger. How it was going to work out was unknown.

* * *

The boy across the room stared at Kaneki. Just stared. Nothing else, yet Kaneki could hear his pulse beating in his ears, blocking out all other sound except his breathing that was raggedly moving in and out of his mouth at gasping intervals. Nothing else mattered. It felt as if the connection had to be held, if it broke..

..If it broke he would die. He had never felt so certain of anything else in his life. He could no longer control his hands; they were shaking in an odd trembling rhythm as the color drained from his face. Yet, he still stared, willing himself not to run, willing the connection to hold.

Kaneki bit his lip and couldn't help it. His olive eyes break the electrifying contact and shoot up the popcorn ceiling. It soon became too much; his breathing and heartbeat began to race and fill his ears with white noise. He caught himself chewing those rotten nails, but forced himself to keep his hand down from his mouth.

It didn't quite work, as he found himself chewing again a bare minute later, while a cold sweat had broken out between his shoulder blades.

With a supreme effort of will, Kaneki manages to halt the rebellious limb and its progress for several seconds, but then it breaks free and begins to rise again to his mouth of its own accord. He attempts to make a deal with it.

_ I will buy shirts with soft long sleeves. Lower yourself, and I will always sleep on my left side, so the weight of my body never rolls over on you._

The bribe is not accepted.

He's chewing again.

With amnesia, the past had gone missing. At least, parts of it. It was rare that there was total amnesia - usually there were little glimmers, sparks in the brain. But Hide didn't, _couldn't_ remember anything. It's been nearly two months since he's been in this place. Kaneki, Touka, and Hinami have paid their visits, and each time the orange-haired boy would look even more puzzled than the first time they came.

The nurses, doctors, _everyone_ had informed him that he'd lost his memory. Touka had became irritated not too long ago and at yelled at him for not remembering them; that they were his friends, knew him for awhile. The blonde wasn't convinced. And once everyone was beginning to think that he were grasping his fingers around an emerging memory, the teen would end up talking about a dream he'd had the night before.

Touka stopped visiting after the 4th time.

It hurt Kaneki. It wasn't Hide's fault. But it still stung, all the same.

* * *

_**(13 days later)**_

The relationship between Kaneki and his friend was awkward. Hide would avoid the white haired boy's gaze, go upon whatever it meant to stay out of his way. They didn't sit together, talk to each other, look at each other. Well, Kaneki did. The worst part was that his friend didn't remember him being a ghoul, so he had to make sure to eat when he wasn't around.

Who knew memory loss could be so painful?

Kaneki wanted to talk, talk so bad. Tell his friend to come back, grab the boy by his shoulders and shake some sense into him. But he couldn't. The way they caught glimpses of each other while passing in the hallway, how cold his eyes were. It wasn't the same.

Yet, Ken couldn't blame Hide. He blamed himself in the first place. He hadn't been there for his best friend.

For Hide.

Kaneki felt no wisp of relief as his mind drifted further into the abyss of sorrow. Hopelessly he pondered these afflictions, only reaffirming the hell he now wanders. Any hope for relief is thwarted by the agony and sadness that haunted him.

A morbid quietness settled over the apartment. Hide's long confinement in a tiny hospital room had eventually made Kaneki lethargic, but even now as the tow-haired boy was back, it still felt like his friend was missing. Believing that routine was the best defense against depression, the artifical half-ghoul tried to keep himself interested in his daily duties; preparing the meals, keeping the apartment spic and span.

But whenever Kaneki lost motivation to do something, he found himself sinking heavily into chairs, staring listlessly out locked windows, sleeping, or paging through dog-eared books he's read a hundred times before. He slowly realized that he was losing interest in reading; even his favorite novels became boring, each little word a blank memory with no meaning.

He's now sitting on his bed, trying to hold back the emotions, the feeling of emptiness. Having no one. He of course DID have Touka, Hinami, including everyone at Anteiku. But even just losing Hide drove a hole through his heart.

He's hunched over slightly, possessing a sense of loss so powerful that his mind couldn't cooperate. A tightening of his throat and short intake of breath forecast the explosion of emotion about to make an appearance. In that moment, all the pent-up mania was let loose in a paroxysm of choking and sobbing, so robust that he couldn't stop.

"Hide, can't you just remember.. For me..?"

Little did he know that there a certain blonde standing in the threshold, watching through the crack of the door.

* * *

The two walked silently down the streets, pebbles being thrown together by the shoes scraping the pavement. Brittle, winter wind gusted in their way, causing Kaneki to shrug deeper into his jacket. His pale hands are shoved into the pockets of the hoodie, hood up, eyes hidden by a fringe of white hair.

His olive iris's reek sharply of sorrow, focused on the multihued grey gravel stretching ahead. Hide walks beside him, except Kaneki can't help but notice the sizeable gap between them both.

The blonde doesn't bother to shield himself from the wind. His eyes are set forward, chin held high. This is how they usually walked. Except they weren't taking a trip to the hospital to check up on Hide's amnesia. It was to go to Anteiku, see Touka, Hinami. Kaneki had managed to convince the boy to go; bribed Hide into going by saying he'd buy him a cup of coffee.

Taking in a sharp intake of air, Kaneki's breath curls from his chapped lips and disperts into the air, the chill biting his skin. The silence stretched on like usual.

Until that voice made an appearance. And it made a spark of aspiration glint in the grey-green hues.

"I have a dream."

Hide says it so casually, so casually it almost makes Kaneki flinch. His friend wasn't going to say he remembered. He was just explaining those dreams again, those dumb dreams. Kaneki hated it; he keeps his head down, stares at his walking shoes.

And then Hide's state of voice changes, changes to something different; it was a tone that words couldn't describe, somewhere between sorrow and determination. Undescribable. Raspy, barely audible, unrecognizable. The blonde has stopped in his footpath, face slack. Kaneki notices and does, too.

He looks back at Hide, puzzled, eyebrows furrowed. The other male doesn't look back at the ghoul. Instead his gaze slips to the ground, and as he speaks, steam seems to rise from his vocals and erupt into the cold air.

"I have a dream that despite my hardest and best efforts will never come to manifestation and that nonetheless I cannot help but spend hours pondering over. It's my long held, completely impractical dream to remember."

Kaneki pales.


	6. Attemption of Hate

**Hiya! Okay, I've never really written a first person point of view chapter, so here's one! This is Kaneki's POV, directed towards Hide. Next chapter it'll be Hide's POV. The chapter after that will be normal. I just want you to see what's currently happening in their heads.**

** Thanks for waiting!**

* * *

_[Kaneki's POV]_

_3 months later_

* * *

It's the ghouls fault, really. But then, the attack was my fault because I wasn't there, so I supposed I'm to blame for all of this. It's also my fault for feeling this way about you, because it never would have happened without our constant propinquity.

But then, if you hadn't gone and tried to be a good friend and get me 'food', then this wouldn't have happened, would it? So then, in the beginning, I guess we're both to blame, right, Hide?

And even though you're just a few feet away crunching on a sucker with your back molars on your laptop, it's only in a bodily sense.

Because your gaze is always far away, thinking about something else. Always thinking about something else. Maybe you're trying to remember Touka, Hinami, Nishiki, me. Maybe you're thinking of how that lollipop is hurting your teeth, or perhaps how the computer is about to die, so you're pondering when to go get the charger.

And so, you are thinking about something, while reading over your essay and twirling the lollipop stick in your fingers. Perhaps you are thinking about how much you dislike me because I'm a "stranger." Maybe you're just thinking about _me._

Somehow I think the computer charger is a more likely candidate.

Because you are no longer Hide, even though you are. We are not friends anymore, I think. We are also nothing _more_ than individuals, no matter what I may want, because you do not remember me. Even if you did I'm not sure if those feelings would be returned, Hide. And I am certainly not about to induce those emotions with a confession or a kiss.

Not your nemesis, not your friend, not your lover.. when you're not Hide, who in the world _am_ I?

I rue the day I began defining myself by what relationship I have with Hide Nagachika. Although that exact date escapes me, which cold facts and numbers rarely do.

It is true that I want you to be Hide.

It's because, when you're Hide, _real_ Hide, I mean something to you.

I'm your most trustful friend, a nerd standing in the way of you getting a girlfriend, the dog with muddy paws in your house that you still pat on the head even though I've left dirt tracks on the white tiled floor.

But when you're _not _Hide.. when you are the fake Hide Nagachika.. you treat me as you would treat any other newly introduced person. Polite, honest, a stranger_._

I am no longer Kaneki, but _that kid_. I'm just some teenager that you're stuck with. That's not enough for me, it never will be, and I suppose this is the reason why I want you to be Hide. I know you are, but can I prove it? You have no remembrance of the past, of yourself, of me. I'm pretty sure that if I don't find the real you, then these feelings growing inside me like a cancer will continue to spread until I am overcome by it.

I'm already insane. From Jason. From the torture I didn't even tell you about because I was too weak to let the explanation run past my malicious lips.

You know, Hide, it's hard to live in your "best friend's" apartment, especially when you're in love with him.

Just your presence in this world makes me susceptible to the disease known as love.

For what could it be if not a disease? Not sentiment, surely. Emotions are predictable, a matter of human brain function and prefrontal cortex growth. Emotions are not all circumscribing. They don't seam themselves into your bones, the damp underdog corners of your mind, your very existence until they become a indefinite part of you; like a scar, a cicatrix that is so old it is mistaken for a birthmark.

Maybe love is a sickness.

I have been nauseous many times, thinking about you, my stomach clenching and turning inside me in the most unnatural way. Sometimes I become incomprehensible, as if my mind were enveloped in feverish fog.

And whenever I go through my hunger pangs or flashbacks and begin hyperventilating or sobbing, you just watch. Blankly. You don't even ask what's wrong, even though you're confused, because you don't remember about me being a ghoul. I don't even know what you think about my black fingernails, pallid skin, white hair. Maybe you think I worship Satan or I'm goth. Who knows.

Every night I wake up screaming bloody murder with those same nightmares with Yamori. You don't come into my room and calm me until I fall back asleep like you used to. And I_ know_ you wake up each time, because who couldn't have heard me shrieking like that, Hide? Do you just lay in your bed after you hear me choke out a scream loud enough to rupture eardrums until you fall back asleep? Do you even care about me?

Truth is, Hide, I haven't figured out what exactly I'm going to say to you yet. I've even caught myself about to eat flesh in front of you. I managed to wrap the brown paper around the chunk of meat and shove it into my hoodie pocket before you even noticed something amiss.

I'm not even sure you want to remember. Sometimes it seems like it. Those days I find your determination endearing. Other days when you seem to lose motivation, I go about talking out loud, saying things like, "I wonder what I'd do if I were a ghoul..?" in hopes that you'd remember and say I already was. You never do. Instead, a scowl crawls on your profile and you tell me to stop talking to myself. To stop playing around, because you're busy with homework and can't concentrate with my babbling.

You've never figured out that I'm not playing.

I take risks like that, as if I simply expect a flood of memories to recollect in your brain.

Sometimes I go too far. I do not know what "too far" is, until you get up from the couch and into your room to escape from my "habit." I don't always deserve it, though.

But then I remember that you have to be fake Hide, because if you weren't, I'll most definitely be doomed to live a life in which I'm in love with you. Love that will never be returned by you, you who would rather think of your laptop that needs to be charged than me sitting next to you on the couch.

Don't get me wrong, though. You go too far as well. You make my heart hurt. It skips a beat when you lean over my shoulder to see the book I'm pretending to read and accidentally exhale a hot breath on my neck. My pulse simmers whenever you call me by 'Ken,' as if you didn't own lips that had once mouthed "Kaneki" all those months ago.

I feel that hearing you call me by ''Ken" and not Kaneki is worse than my decisive percentages on your memory.

And sometimes you grow angry when I bring up your amnesia, yelling at me before quickly apologizing. But you never take what you say back.

Which is alright, because the more you do wrong will probably end up with me hating you.

And it really is better if I hate you, because if I don't, then I'll probably fall deeper in love with you.


	7. Realization Void of Remembrance

**Wow! Hey guys. Sorry for not updating this for the longest time...I can't believe I published this story when I was 13 years old, pfftt. I was such a youngster. **

**Truth be told, I wasn't going to update this. I was even planning deleting it, maybe...but then I read the reviews and thought, "hey, why not try to do this again?" **

**I can't promise I'll be able to update every month. I have a main project I'm working on (Vellietie) and school has started. I'll be taking college credit classes. **

**So, please bear with me!**

**As said, here's Hide's POV.**

**Thanks so much! xoxo**

* * *

I don't understand where everything went wrong. Everything is a blur. _Every single thing._

I woke up in a hospital bed that day and ever since, my life went to hell. I couldn't remember anything, anyone, who I am, nothing.

I tried many times to remember. I tried so hard...but still...nothing.

The information I know now was not because I miraculously remembered; it was because I was told, many many times, over and over and over again. I can rehearse it in my head now like a broken record, what's been recited to me; My name is Hideyoshi Nagachika. I'm 20 years old. I went to a college (which I still keep forgetting the name of, no matter how much people notify me).

I had acquaintances. Touka, Hinami. Nishiki, Kimi.

And a best friend.

_Kaneki Ken._

I can't recall how we met, or if we even met. What if these are all lies? What if these crazy people are pinning a whole backstory on me that never existed?

It doesn't make sense to me.

I did try to understand, though. I went to see Touka. Asked about Kaneki, just to see if I could recollect _something,_ a distant memory, a funny look, a Christmas with him when I'd supposedly crashed my car into his by accident, _anything..._There wasn't anything.

Touka informed me that before whatever happened to Ken, he was a kind boy. I'd known him since we were young children. I stuck to him like glue and we did everything together. She told me I was adored by many people and it was because of all the unsubtle ways I expressed my love for everyone around me. I never had to say "I love you." I lived my love.

_Like hell_ that would bring up any memories. There was no way Ken was my friend. I won't believe it.

I wouldn't befriend a psycho.

I've been awaken a numberless amount of times to him screaming at night, scratching at the walls, begging to be left alone. A part of me wishes I could help, but another part of me wants to run. And, when he's not shrieking, he's just looking at me. Staring me down with sad eyes.

I hate to say it, but the look always pulls on my heartstrings and I always think that I'll remember something, remember that face because a force in my core declares that I've seen it more than once. That I should recognize it. Recognize all the times that I have seen it. But I never do.

Sometimes though...I do listen to Ken's ramblings, those times when he goes insane. I pretend not to, but I do. I listen intently.

'The world is disgusted by me,' he'd muttered once when I was in bed trying to sleep. I could just barely hear his voice through the other side of the wall, coming from his room. I can't help but feel pity for him. He needs to go to a mental hospital, I think...I do feel guilty for having that thought cross my mind, though.

I shouldn't.

Ken isn't sane. Therefore, he has to be a liar and a horrible, horrible, horrible human being...right? And I don't know if I care because he has to be right, he has to be telling the truth, we had to be in some sort of contact for him to be so concerned for my safety...or because this is some cruel joke, or because I'm so desperate for some semblance or proof of living this life.

I cannot look at him. I cannot speak to him. He sleeps a room away but I never see him. He breathes so close to my body sometimes but does not part his lips in my direction. He does not follow me around like people said he used to. He does not read books anymore like people said he used to.

It's all a lie. It has to be. Nothing adds up. He hasn't done anything that his friends said he did when we knew each other.

How the hell am I supposed to remember this way?

I do have hope though, and I admit that it's really dumb. Why would I have hope? Why? Still, I need to know if I'm crazy for holding on to this hope sending vines in my chest and I need to know what Ken and I used to be but every day that I treat him like a stranger and he doesn't do anything about it is another day I begin to doubt myself.

He never talks to me like he did at first, trying to get me to remember. He doesn't speak a single word to me, but now I realize that's because I pushed him away. It's my fault he's like this to me, it has to be.

I was mean to him.

I _am _mean to him.

Nevertheless, he's the only one who dares to sit across from me on the couch. He's the only one who continues to stand up for me, the only person who fights for me, the only one who'd punch someone in the face for saying something about my memory loss. I haven't even said thank you.

I've hurt Ken. It was me all along.

And I won't allow myself to do so anymore.


End file.
